


It's Hard To Breathe

by BlamBlamDaJamJam



Category: One Piece
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Forced, Forced Orgasm, Gang Rape, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Pain, Portgas D. Ace-centric, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Torture, Trauma, Underage Rape/Non-con, Violation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 23:11:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20455109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlamBlamDaJamJam/pseuds/BlamBlamDaJamJam
Summary: Portgas D. Ace wasn't aware of all the cruel things that could happen in the world. In this case, rape. But getting drunk without supervision (or a certain mother hen nearby,) leads Ace to a few discoveries he didn't want to make. How will the Whitebeard pirates help Ace?





	1. Chapter 1

Portgas D. Ace didn't necessarily have the best ideas. 

Pranking Marco? Deathwish? _Pfft, _prank him anyways. Izou will kill him for messing with his make-up? Oh, pardon his twin sister Ann (that _totally _existed, thank-you-very-much). 

So getting wasted at a bar without supervision (or a certain mother hen) was the _best _idea. _Obviously. _There sat a man beside Ace, but the poor boy was to drunk to realize the man spelled trouble. 

The man was wearing a Marine uniform. In Ace's defence, he thought it was Halloween and the man was wearing a costume. 

The man he had come to know as 'Shinto', kept laying a suggestive hand on Ace's thighs or arm. Ace tried to shrug him off, but the touches were seriously annoying him. Shinto sighed. 

"Let me help you back to your crew, okay?" The man asked. Of course, Ace wasn't thinking (he had a brain, despite *coughcough Marco's coughcough* the common belief he _didn't_), so of course he said yes. 

Now Ace was chained in kersoseki; on board a Marine ship. He would've called himself stupid if he could get his thoughts in order. Did this guy roofie him? Not surprising, considering he was a Marine. 

Speaking of Marines.... a resounding _smack_ rang out as one of the crew members hit him. Again. "Not so tough now, are ya'? Fuckin' pirate!"

* * *

This wouldn't be the first time a certain flame-brained (Marco was pretty sure Ace didn't have a brain) idiot made the Whitebeard crew worry.

Not only had Ace been in an argument with Thatch; but he has now disappeared from (as far as anyone could tell) the _island. _At first everyone thought that he might be on the ship (he wasn't), and then assumed he was playing a prank (but Ace wasn't that cruel). 

"This is all my fault!" Thatch wailed for what had to be the thousandth time. "Thatch, stop that. You know it wasn't your fault," Izou scolded. 

Thatch and Ace had argued because the crew needed to restock, meaning they were a little low on food. Ace had decided that because of that, he wouldn't eat. _At all. _ The fire user had collapsed a few times, and it took a few more to realize it wasn't the narcolepsy. 

So now the Whitebeard crew were searching for their missing crewmate. Marco could only hope Ace would be okay. 

* * *

If there was one thing Ace hated, it was going slow. Whether that applied to searches or physical activity (no, not _that _kind! <strike>He's still a vigin!</strike>). 

Shinto sat atop Ace, straddling the pirate. Not only did the keroseki keep Ace from using his powers, the Marines had given him something that made him docile. 

However docile it made him, it also made Ace's insides _burn,_ his eyes water, and his body feel as if someone were reading it limb from limb. Shinto had one of Ace's fingers in his hand, slowly bending it backward. Ace was aware that the Whitebeards would definitely see he wasn't worth it after this. He had gotten kidnapped and was being tortured for amusement. 

They didn't like weaklings. Ace thought his only salvation could be that he refused to cry. Another finger. _Another snap. _One by one, his fingers were broken. The same hand was later flat, his arm held down by a few other Marines. 

Ace didn't register the pain of his fingernail being tugged on. He let out a sharp breath as the tugging became harsher. And then his finger no longer had a nail. To keep from screaming, Ace had to nearly bite his tongue off. 

The young boy couldn't help but think of Marco. 

His family would rescue him. What was he thinking? They wouldn't abandon a crewmate! _Pops isn't the type to do that, _Ace thought happily. That was, until a sharp object penetrated where his fingernail should be. 

Ace couldn't help it. He let out a whimper despite his wishes to not make a sound. _Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. _At one point, it seemed they removed his fingernails and toenails, but Ace couldn't think through the pain anymore. His eyes drooped, but it seemed the Marines wouldn't let him rest just yet. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marines get on a mighty high-horse and decide to fuck with Whitebeard over the phone.

Marco, as the first mate, had a lot of responsibilities. 

Make sure the crew was alright. Make sure Oyaji didn't go over his alcohol limit. Watch over everyone. Make sure jobs were done right. Paperwork, paperwork, and did he mention _more paperwork?_

Usually, the Phoenix had Ace to distract him; either with his billions of questions, or plain annoying him (which he appreciated more than he cared to admit). 

Or, Marco had Thatch. Pranks galore and all that. 

But not now. _Now, _he has a very sad Thatch on his hands, as well as the other commanders who were stressed out. 

They couldn't find Ace. _Marco _couldn't find Ace. He had been circling overhead for hours before giving up. Ace wasn't near this island, and the Marines (by now) would've said something about capturing the legendary fire-fist. 

Marco was surprised at how much it angered him to think about the Marines laying their filthy hands on poor, innocent Ace. The first mate wasn't even sure Ace has had sex before. Sure, the younger was certainly flirty, but he had limits. If anyone touched him suggestively, he quickly excused himself. 

Marco let out a sigh and rolled his shoulders. _Come back to us soon, yoi. _

* * *

Ace was aware that he had woken up. He felt the chill of the ground and the way the keroseki cuffs dug into his skin. Thanks to his power being gone, Ace also felt the cold air. 

A harsh hit to the stomach has Ace fully awake. The hit only served to remind him that he had missed at least a meal or two. 

Ace growled at the attacker, although he might not have looked that scary judging by the man's facial expression. Shinto. The man smirked, getting in Ace's face. "Aww, the little baby is mad!" He sneered. 

Shinto snapped his fingers. In an instant, four other Marines flooded into the room. Ace attempted to touch the ground, but found he was still suspended. _Fuck. _

A cold feeling settled in Ace's stomach. _Marco would be stronger than this, _Ace thought bitterly. The thought of Marco overrode the feeling that settled in his stomach, replaced with butterflies. 

Suddenly, Ace was dropped to the ground, hitting it face-first. He was pretty sure that the fall broke his nose; if the blood coming out of it indicated anything. "What do you want?" Ace snarled. Shinto mearly laughed, bringing up his hand to reach in his pocket, pulling out a gun. 

Ace froze. 

What would be the point of killing him here when they had gone through so much trouble of capturing him? The other Marines all went to the side of the room, almost in a line. Something twisted in Ace's gut and told him this wouldn't be pretty. 

* * *

It was in the middle of a commander meeting when Oyaji's den-den-mushi rang. Oddly enough, it was the Marines who were calling. 

Whitebeard picked the den-den-mushi up. "Hello?" His voice rang out. The giant man set the den-den-mushi down so all the commanders could hear it. ( I'm not very familiar with how den-den-mushis work, so please correct me if I get anything wrong or forgot something.) 

"Hello. This is Whitebeard, I pressume?" The voice that answered back was an annoying voice. It was the kind of voice that would make anyone who spoke to that person instantly annoyed, whether the man or woman was a good person. In this case it was the Marines (who obviously weren't good), so...

"Yes. What do you want?" Whitebeard was _ not _in any sort of good mood, and the question of '_did the Marines have something to do with this_' has everyone on edge. "I assume someone from your crew is missing, correct? And that you would like him back?" 

The commanders all bit their tongue, knowing it could ruin this call for their Pops if they spoke. It might cause the man to not want to give any information if he knew others were in the room. 

"Do you have Ace?" Whitebeard asked. The calm rage in his eyes was a look the commanders knew well, even if their Pops didn't sport the look often. 

"Yes. In fact, I'm sure you'd love to talk to your little pet, right?" Whitebeard's anger elevated. Before he could speak, a loud, "YOU RAT-LOOKING FUCKER!" was heard in the background. It took a lot of willpower for the commanders to not snort. Typical Ace. 

"Ace, are you alright?" Whitebeard asked. A gun cocking was heard in the baclground. "I wouldn't talk of I were you, boy." No one in the room could hear the response , but they did hear the _thwack _of a punch. 

The _"I'm fine pops!"_ was barely audible, but it gave the Whitebeard commanders some peace of mind. Whitebeard looked a little less tense, but it was obvious the man wanted to _see _his son was okay. 

Especially since Ace tended to not say anything when he was hurt (much to everyone's concern and annoyance). "I'll give you two a minute, then the call will be ended. Ta-ta, Whitebeard." 

The sound of clicking footsteps alerted the pirates to the fact that the man was leaving them for a minute. "Ace, are you _really _okay, my son?" A grunt was heard. "I'll _be _fine." 

Silence. "Pops....I'm sorry. I let myself get captured and-and now I don't know where I am..." Whitebeard hated how vulnerable his son sounded. "Ace, we'll accept you no matter what you've done." 

Silence.

More silence. 

"Oyaji...what if they remove the mark?" Whitebeard froze. What did _that _mean? "How would they remove the mark, my son?" 

Ace stayed silent. "It seems your time is up, Whitebeard." A Marine said. "Removing the mark was a great idea, fire-fist. We'll see what we can do about that." 

Screams of protest rang in the background before the line went dead. Whitebeard himself wanted to scream. He was going to get his son back, and he was going to do it with dead Marines behind him and his family. 


	3. Chapter 3

Marco knew how Thatch got when he was guilty. 

He had a gloomy cloud over him, wouldn't talk (besides saying how sorry he was 24/7), and would stick strictly to his commander responsibilities. No fun, no pranks. 

Marco also knew he was one of the only people that could talk Thatch (or manhandle him) out of his guilt. At the moment, Marco was at the Chef's door, knocking harshly. No response was audible. 

"Thatch? I'm coming in, yoi." Without waiting for a response, he opened the door to find Thatch sitting on his bed; head in his hands. Marco walked up to Thatch and put a comforting (at least, he _hoped _it was comforting) hand on his friend's shoulder. "Thatch."

Said man jumped, looking at Marco like he was seeing him for the first time. "Oh, hey Marco. Did you need something?" He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course that's what Thatch would ask. "Thatch. You _know _what I'm here for, yoi." Thatch gulped. "Look, I-" Marco cut him off. "Sitting around and sulking isn't helping anyone, Thatch. Yes, all of us _understand _your pain too. We want Ace back. We want our _brother _back. And we can't do that if you keep to yourself. Everyone wants things back to normal, and we can't do that without you, yoi." 

Thatch wiped his eyes. "But _I _caused Ace to get mad. Marco, what if he _hates_ me?

Marco sighed. "It isn't like Ace to hold grudges over something like this. Besides, Ace wouldn't hate you for what happens. He's the one who ran off." Thatch gapes at him. "So you're saying it's _his _fault!?"

Marco blinked in surprise. "No. That's....that's _not _what I'm saying, Thatch!" The Chef rubbed his eyes. "Sorry. I know that's not what you meant." Marco nodded. "It's fine, yoi. Now get back to work. We have a brother to save." 

* * *

Ace was aware of the fact that he was chained up. He was a prisoner, obviously. But this was different. 

His legs were tied apart, and his arms are too. His arms are suspended above his head and his feet aren't touching the ground. There's something in his mouth, but Ace can't tell what it is. 

He tried to kick away the chains, but it didn't work. _Stupid Marines, _Ace thinks to himself. As if the comment summoned them, Shinto and his posse of four Marines stop outside his cell. "Look at fire-fist being..._vulnerable._" The way Shinto says that sentence has shivers going down Ace's back. 

Ace finds he can't say anything due to whatever is in his mouth. Shinto sighs. "If only I could gag you with something else...but alas, I want you to have your pride and joy _ruined,_" 'he snarls. 

Ace tries to think through Shinto's words. _Gag me with something else? The hell? _Before Ace could think of what that meant, he felt someone put their hands on his back. 

**TORTURE STARTS **

Ace yells a protest into his gag, but the words come out garbled. They....they _dared _to touch his tatoo!? The symbol that meant Pops _cared _and _wanted him as his son!? _

"Oh, did we make wittle Acey-wacy sad? I think we did! Oh, I think we did!" Ace shoved down the humiliation. Shinto was talking to him like a _kid. _

Luffy briefly crossed his mind. 

A sharp pinching pain brought Ace back from his thoughts. He glared at Shinto, who smiled back at Ace. Looking down, he saw Shinto's nails embedded into his abdomen quite painfully. Ace moved his leg up and successfully kneed Shinto harshly. Though Ace knew this wouldn't free him, he knew it would hurt his captor. 

Shinto got up from the ground, wiping his mouth. "We'll see how tough you are when your pride and joy is removed, fire-fist! Boys, bring me the whip!" It was then that Ace noticed a cart full of weapons. 

These filthy pieces of shit wanted to remove the symbol that proved his Oyaji _cares _and _wants him as his son!? _Like hell!

Ace thrashed, but it wasn't getting him anywhere. Tears of frustration welled in his eyes. He couldn't protect his symbol. Ace heard Shinto's shoes echo across the room as he stepped behind Ace. 

"Anyone want to bet on how many lashes it takes for our baby boy to break?" Shinto offered. The other Marines laughed. Their answers were drowned out by Ace's attempts to get free. 

They couldn't touch it! No! They couldn't touch his symbol! In a way, Ace felt his inability to protect his mark was an inability to protect his family. "Bro, you's gon' be broke, but I'll take yer bet! Starts the lashin's cap'n!" 

Ace could _feel _Shinto's smirk. But he knew his family wouldn't leave him here...probably...and besides, if he didn't cry or scream, they would accept him back, right? Ace registered the burning pain of the whip and forced himself to not scream out. The burning pain returned albeit harsher. _Fuck! _Ace thought to himself. 

The stinging of the whip came again; and again, and again, and again. Ace didn't hear what Shinto said, but not a minute later the other four Marines had whips too. The lashes came fast and hard, and Ace's resolve to not scream was weening. 

The feeling of blood rolling down his back and mixing with sweat sent a jolt through Ace. "That's enough, boys. Let me handle this," Shinto said with a tone that made Ace cringe. Oyaji would come for him, right? 

"That's cute." Shinto said, slapping Ace's back in a not-so-friendly manner. Ace bit his tongue to keep from making noise. "You think your Pops will want you? We'll make sure that mark dissapears. We might even take mercy and kill you after. No one needs _you._" 

Shinto rested his hands on two separate sides of a lash injury, griping the edges harsh enough to make Ace cry out. He cursed himself for his weakness. _Marco_ wouldn't scream. Ace flinched at the thought. Shinto suddenly pulled from the two edges, forcing the injury open. Ace screamed into his gag, bucking in his restraints. 

Shinto pulled open three more lashes. Tears gathered in the edge of Ace's eyes. Jesus _fuck_ it _hurt__! _

Shinto sighed. "I'm sorry, I've completely neglected my blades needs! You won't mind if I..._satisfy _them, do you?" Before Ace could even think of a sarcastic answer, a keroseki knife was plunged into his side, by the bottom of his left pectoral and _dragged. _Ace screamed into his gag, eyes wide with pain. 

The knife slit across his right shoulder. That's when Ace went numb with pain. "Let 'em down and strap him to the table." Ace let go of his consciousness, actually _glad _for the sudden narcolepsy attack.

**TORTURE ENDS**

* * *

Whitebeard summoned his commanders back into the room when the Marines called once more. Marco wasn't too happy about this, but it seemed they might get more information on Ace, so he relented. 

"Oh, hello there Whitebeard! I have a little update on your little weasle." 

It took all of Marco's will to _not _crush the den-den-mushi right then and there. Ace wasn't an animal, he was a person (and someone Marco cared about a little _too _much). 

"_Don't_." Oyaji warned the Marine. The only response was a high-pitched laugh. "He's- _goddamn! _Cap'n, fire-fist is-! OW! _Fuck!_" A snarl was heard in the background, and clattering followed. 

Whitebeard smirked with the knowledge of the ruckus his son was causing. Shinto stepped away from the den-den-mushi. A pained yelp was heard, as well as a high-pitched laughter. "What was that, Acey-wacy?" Shinto said, the den-den close enough to pick his voice up. 

"I _said,_" A wheezy voice replied, "Your laugh sounds like a girls. Have you...even hit puberty yet?" 

A loud yell was heard, and the line went dead. Dread filled all of those in the room. Although Ace's reply was funny, they all wondered why his voice sounded so...._worn._

Marco gritted his teeth. They _needed _to get Ace back....

and they needed to get him back _soon. _Marco barely registered the den-den-mushi being called again until he heard Shinto's voice. 

"We're nearby, Whitebeard. We'll be waiting." With that, the call ended, taking Marco's worry to a whole other level. _Dammit, Ace! You better be okay, yoi!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Whitebeard Pirates try to figure out where the hekko Ace is, but things don't really go as planned.

Marco rubbed his forehead in an attempt to make his headache go away. 

Yes, it is possible for the almighty Phoenix to get a headache (although that isn't a particularly _good _thing, seeing as they only happen when he's immensely worried). 

He had a map splayed out on the table and fifteen other commanders surrounding him; but by god they couldn't figure out where Ace might be. If they noticed how his nails dig into his skin and how they clamped harder with each passing moment, they didn't say anything. 

Marco ran a hand through his hair. It's almost embarrassing how much he cares for his.......

......

.....

.....

Oh god. Oh dear _god _no. He couldn't.... 

Marco felt his throat go dry. The word 'brother' has completely escaped his mind. He didn't place Ace as a brother, but he couldn't... Ace is so much _younger _than him! 

Marco pushed those thoughts into the deepest corner of his mind and focused at the task at hand. "They said they're nearby, but there's been multiple Marine ship sightings. How do we know which one is them?" 

Marco gripped his chin as he thought. "We _could _go to every Marine ship, but that would take time, yoi. Although we could send separate teams...." 

Suddenly, the door popped open. "Whitebeard wants to see all of you." The person disappeared after the statement, making Marco wonder if it was true. He shook his head lightly. That wouldn't be a smart thing to do, especially at a time like this. 

Marco and the other commanders went to Whitebeard, wondering what he wanted. Not that it annoyed them; their father could never annoy them if he tried. 

Marco's heart felt especially heavy. Ace was a commander....the seat was unfilled and missed a certain hot-headed presence. He sighed, taking a deep breathe. The meeting had begun. 

* * *

Ace was _ready. _He was ready to deck Shinto in the face and dunk on the other Marines holding him hostage. 

They had taken away his pride and joy; one of the only things that symbolized he was _worthy of living. _They had taken it away and they didn't even _care. _

He had failed to protect his family. He had failed to protect _Marco. _He knows the older man would never see him that way, but he can't help but daydream. But now Marco wouldn't even see him as a brother. No way, no how. 

Marco cares about his family and Pops more than anything. But now Ace would be apart of that family. Hell, if Marco even tolerated his presence he'd be surprised. The thought sent a spark of agony all over, clamping over his heart. He had really fallen for the Pheonix.

Is this his punishment for being loved? For being alive? For loving someone? The answer is clear to Ace: _of course it is. _A sudden chill ran through him. What if the Whitebeard Pirates didn't want to save him? What if they somehow found out about what happened and decided that he just wasn't worth it? 

Ace couldn't feel anything. He was going numb. 

Marco would never love him. Did he ever see him as a brother? Why did Whitebeard want _him? _And Thatch....a few tears escaped his eyes. He's not worthy. 

Darkness crowds Ace's mind. It's like he can't breathe; like he's drowning and no one can help. It isn't the narcolepsy. Everything is suffocating and he wants it to _stop. _

Then Shinto's voice cut through the deep waters of the darkness. 

"Good morning, fire-bitch. I think that we went a little easy on you yesterday, so we're going to go it today." Shuffling. More shuffling. 

"So let's start off with a little incentive for you to cooperate. I'll let you talk to Whitebeard for an hour, and in return....you let us test some drugs on you. Do we have a deal?" Ace nodded numbly. Static rang in his ears. He _needs _to apologize. 

.....And maybe he wants to know if they're coming for him. Just maybe.

Shinto unrestrained his hands, immediately placing keroseki cuffs on them. However, this position did allow him to sit up and look at the den-den-mushi. Shinto didn't leave the room, much to his disappointment. 

"My son, are you alright?" The den-den-mushi had taken on the familiar 'stach of his - _no, you don't deserve to call him that. _

Ace stayed silent for a moment. Apparently it was a moment too long, as the den-den took on a concerned look. "Ace...?" 

He cleared his throat. "Don't....don't call me that." Whitebeard's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as portrayed by the den-den. "Don't call you what, Ace?" He took a deep breath. 

"They....the mark is....gone. I don't deserve to be called your son anymore. Not when they removed the symbol..." Silence. "Ew. You think he wanted you as a son!? No way in hell. He was only using you, fire-fist." Shinto said. 

Ace felt cold, pure fear wash over him. That...Whitebeard couldn't hate him that severly....right? 

"Ace, no matter what they do to you, you'll always be my son. I promise." 

Shinto stood up, closing in on Ace. "Oh really?" He put a hand on Ace's chest, licking his lips, but stepping back immediately after. "I'm leaving. I don't want to hear your disgusting family talk." Before Shinto left, he spit on Ace. Somehow, it felt degrading. 

"Ace, what have they done to you?" 

* * *

"Ace, what have they done to you?" 

The radio silence did _not _help Whitebeard's growing anxiety about if his son was okay or not. 

Eventually, there was a response. "They used a whip.......and then pulled at the skin where they whipped....I'm not s-sure what kind of drug it was, but it _burned._" 

The atmosphere darkened quite quickly. If it burned _Ace, _then that drug wasn't normal by any standards. "I'm sorry...." He hated how weak his son's voice sounded. Ace's voice should be loud and booming, not quiet. 

"For what? You haven't done anything wrong, Ace." Whitebeard tensed, wondering why his son was acting this way. "I'm sorry for being a disappointment. Anyone else on the crew could've defended themselves better. They're all smart enough to know not to be alone....They wouldn't have screamed." 

The last part was mumbled, but by god the silent room heard his words. 

"Ace. Listen to me, son-" He was cut off by a choked cry.

"Don't call me son, dammit! I'm not worth it, so don't....don't call me that...._please_...." A look around the room told Whitebeard that Ace wasn't getting away with that comment. 

"You're our brother, Ace!"

"What the hell?"

"As if we're letting you go that easy!"

"Don't even go there, yoi." 

Whitebeard heard Ace suck in a deep breath. "You guys....still want me as a brother?" Everyone in the room said their agreements. A happy smile appeared on the den-den-mushi. 

"I broke a few of their noses!" Whitebeard laughed. "Cheeky brat," he said teasingly. 

Suddenly, another appearance took over the den-den. "I can't handle this anymore! Enough with the mushy gushy shit!" 

"Whitebeard..." 

He grunted. "_Yes?_" 

"How would you like to hear your son scream?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear J E S U S it's been a long time.  
For those of you who've been waiting, I'm soRry, but it's not my fault I swear! School is a niGHtmAre with at least two projects every. Single. WEEK. Also, there's a lot that's been going on- apparently my two crushes have girlfriends sO there goes my love life (if it ever existed -_-). Please accept my apologies before I go to hell for writing this fanfiction-

Ace is confused.

Shinto had asked Whitebeard if he wanted to hear his son scream. He doesn't exactly know what that means, but it does confuse him.

A lot of protests are screamed over the phone; along with a loud growl from Whitebeard himself. Ace felt a shiver go up his spine. The growl the older man has emitted was the kind used for when someone messed with his family; like trying to shoot one of them.

Shinto only laughed and grinned like a maniac. Ace felt a pang of homesickness hit him. Only Thatch could pull off that grin and _not _look insane. Ace growled at Shinto, catching his attention.

"Oh shut up, Ace!" A harsh smack was delivered across his face, catching him off guard. "Go fuck yourself," He replied.

Shinto looked him up and down. "I think I'll do something even better." Ace heard Whitebeard snarl. "What do you think you're doing to my son?" His tone suggested he was angry, and that scares him a little. It was very, very hard to get Whitebeard angry.

As if responding to his thoughts of Whitebeard, his back tingled. Right where the tattoo should be.

"Say, fire-fist...do you know what sex is? Are you a virgin?"

* * *

"Say, fire-fist...do you know what sex is? Are you a virgin?"

A chill ran up Marco's spine. He doesn't like where this is going. Looking around the room confirmed his fellow commanders felt the same way. The aura coming from Pops is deadly; as if he's ready to pummel anything in his way of going to Ace.

An, "I don't have to tell you anything!" Only made it worse. Ace is a virgin and in the hands of at least five Marine men. One of the commanders was working with their division to trace the calls to find the location of their missing brother.

"Boys? Cuff his feet and tie him up." Okay, that is it. Marco was about to throw that stupid den-den across the room and burn it before common sense overtook his rationality.

Though he didn't want to hear Ace scream, he needs to know that Ace is okay, even if it came from pained screams. He winced. Was he really that twisted? Wanting Ace to scream to know if he was okay? A hand is layed on his shoulder and it takes Marco a moment to realize it's Thatch's hand.

"He'll be okay. This is Ace, am I right?"

Marco hears the pleading tone in his brother's voice; begging him to say "Of course." So he does so with a smile. Thatch relaxes a tiny bit; but for some reason it doesn't help Marco feel any better.__

* * *

Ace hates being gagged.

He hates it worse than being chained up, if he's being honest. Which he is.

He's also blindfolded. Awesome. But it scares him. He can't see, and it's pretty freakin' terrifying to lose one of his six senses (he vaguely remembers his crewmates joking about his 'Marco detector').

It scares Ace further because it means he doesn't know the level of pain to expect or what they'll use next. How they'll use him next. He hears footsteps getting closer to him. Suddenly a hot, heavy breathe makes it down his neck and he jolts in surprise. Ace screams into the gag as a tongue licks his neck and sucks on part of his ear.

"We're gonna have some fun with you, but not too much excitement." Shinto's voice sent a shiver down his spine that he didn't appreciate. He kicked out, apparently hitting something as Shinto grunted in pain.

Frankly, Ace had no idea what was happening, but he was going without a fight.

With no warning, he starts bucking and kicking, aiming to get as many as possible before they can restrain him. A sudden pinch in his side gave Ace the knowledge that he was being injected with something. 

_ **+TORTURE/HARRASMENT STARTS+** _

The pain is immediate. The burning spreads across his skin like fire, swallowing everything whole with stings and pressure and _it burns; _he isn't thinking straight- "Ace?"

It feels like his skin is being absolutely _shredded _and he can't _feel anything_ except he can but it_ burns_-

_"Ace!"_

Was that Marco's voice? The thought calmed him a little, but the pain was on the move to his aching chest. He tries to speak but is muffled by the gag. A harsh slap is delivered to his left cheek, briefly stunning him. "Don't worry, little Acey-wacey is okay. Probably."

Another pinch in his side. 

Ace screams in pain; and not even the gag can muffle it all that well. 

"Ace? What did you do to him?" Whitebeard's voice does nothing to calm the raging storm of _pain. _It feels like a thousand ice picks are pelting his skin at the same time; he isn't getting air in his lungs- the air is cold right along with his frozen lungs; his skin is _burning _and _melting-_

And then it stops. Ace breathes harshly through his nose, attempting a recovery from whatever the _hell _that was. 

Moments later he's suddenly on his knees but still restrained. Still disoriented from the injection, Ace doesn't remember how he got in this position. The gag is removed, allowing him to breathe more freely. Suddenly, a zipper going down is heard. Ace wonders why- wouldn't the Marines have latrines around? 

A hand is put on his lower back. The hand then slides to his stomach. It takes Ace a moment to realize that whoever's touching him wasn't _touching_him, they're_ feeling him up! _

Ace thinks of Marco for whatever reason- he also thinks about if this was Marco, feeling him up, and a shiver runs up his spine- but a good kind of shiver. Whoever was feeling him up laughed. "Look at this little bitch! Not even complaining. I'll bet you-"

"Shut _up! _Get your nasty-ass hands off of me!" Ace interrupts. The man - he can tell it's a man from the voice - laughs again. "We'll just have to teach you some manners, fire-fist. Hang the den-den up, Ployski." Ace hears the screams and shouts of protest from the other side and felt his heart drop. 

They _willingly _want to hear his pain? His suffering? His back burns in remembrance. He failed to protect his _symbol......_his _family. _Of course they want to hear him suffer. No-one gets away with hurting one of their family members. The pride that swells at that thought is quickly pushed down by Ace remembering he isn't apart of their family - not anymore. 

Something is shoved into his mouth roughly. Ace tries to bite what's in his mouth, but is met with a pinch in his side. The pain floods over him, almost an insta-kill. He almost collapses, but is brought back to reality by remembering there's something in his mouth. 

For a reason Ace can't fathom, his brain brings up the memory of a zipper going down, but he isn't making the connection. Maybe the guy was taking a piss? The thing in his mouth? He registers what it is once his tormentor starts _slamming _into his face. Ace chokes on the man's dick, and he's forced to swallow when the man finishes. 

It's embarrasing, degrading and disgusting. He wishes it were Marco and not some stranger. 

Then, he feels it: a knife is dragged across his back, slow and hard. Ace screams as the knife stops dragging and plunges into his shoulder. 

_ **+TORTURE/HARRASMENT STOPS+** _

Ace really needs Marco. The thoughts of Marco won't stop. At least it distracts him from what just happened. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco needs therapy. And Ace. But Ace isn't here, so Thatch therapy will have to do

If there was a guidebook for '_how__ to survive on the Moby Dick_', it would involve a list of what pissed Marco off. 

One of the things in that list is messing with Ace. In any way. Once, and only once, had a fellow crewmember made Ace cry. That's right; _cry. _Even Whitebeard was not a happy camper on that occasion. 

Marco has recently taken to writing in a journal. True, it makes the man feel like a child, but he's barely holding it together as it is. Today he writes about Ace. 

About how he misses the younger boy's presence; how he misses his laugh and all the food they have to make for him due to his '_D_' appetite. About how he hopes the Marines haven't scared Ace- messing with his tattoo was already enough to make Marco want to lash out in anger. 

But he _can't _because he's the first mate, and as first mate he has to hold it together. He needs to be a leader. If he slips up once, the crew will be lost, or lose respect, or-

With a nauseas feeling piling up in his stomach, Marco realizes that he can't breathe. He can't fucking _breathe, _and his head is pounding from lack of air. Come to think of it, his chest is pounding, his heart thumping against it quite painfully. 

The man jumps as something hits the ground with a dull _thunk. _Since when did his ears start ringing? And since when was he on the ground? And why can't he breathe? Marco tries to take a deep breath but pain shoots across his body. His mind is jumbled as his body starts shaking uncontrollably, and tears spill from his puffy, sleep-deprived eyes. The room spins as he sweats, his head pounding harder than before. 

Marco's mouth is uncomfortably dry and his throat feels swollen when he tries to swallow. Holy _hell, _he really can't breathe. 

Marco, rationally, knows that he should get Thatch or Pops, but he can't seem to move. His fingers and toes have gone cold and numb on him. _Stupid fingers. Stupid toes, _he thinks to himself. He can't think of anything else but the now blinding chest pain. The older male curls into a ball. 

Abdominal pain makes itself known as his limbs start to spasm against his will, hurting his still-frozen toes and fingers. Marco starts to feel as if it's really cold- no, on second though, it's hot- but too hot. 

Marco's short breaths become shorter and more panicked as he remembers he can't _get _hot. The thought reminds him of Ace. Marco starts seeing a mix of white and black spots, still thinking of Ace. How he can't protect him. How he's weak and old, and how he weighs down the crew-

A door closing rings through the room. He lets out a pained moan. The door closing hurts his head; more than the pounding that's already causing him pain. A hand shakes him and Marco feels cold again. Then hot. Then cold. A shiver runs through him. "-co...arco...Marco!" 

With a painful jolt his body stops spasming for a few seconds. Gasping for breathe, he looks at the source of the voice. "Thatch?" He croaks. Great. Now a fellow _commander _is seeing him so..._weak...._so..._pathetic._

Marco's stomach twists painfully and his limbs are moving uncontrollably again- he, dimly aware, feels himself being moved from the ground. Another cold, cold shiver runs through him. Suddenly he's got again, sending him into another bout of panic.

His body is being rocked. He's propped up, chest to chest, leaning against Thatch, being rocked. Once this registers, he moved his trembling arms oh-so slowly until he's got his arms wrapped around his friend painfully tight, soothed by the rocking motions.

"It's okay Marco. You're alright. It'll all be okay, I promise." Marco's expression morphs into a scowl. He's weak, crying like this. He's the_ first mate_ damnit, and while everyone is focused on saving Ace, he's having a panic attack. He briefly wonders how Thatch thinks of him. The thought of Thatch, Ace, Pops, or anyone, really; thinking he's weak sends his heart thumping painfully again.

Fingers clutch Thatch's shirt as Marco buries his head into the other man's shoulder. He inhales the scent of grease and an overall kitchen-y smell, and his thoughts seem less jumbled.

"You aren't weak, Marco. Everyone has a breaking point, and you take way more than a normal person. Which, as your best friend, is hard to watch you do, you know? It's okay. I promise you're fine."

The words calm Marco. Thatch doesn't stop the rocking motions, instead pulling Marco even closer. Marco lets the tears escape into Thatch's shoulder. His heart is beating less hard, slowing to a steady pace; no longer painfully hitting against his chest. 

"'M sorry," he mumbled into Thatch's shoulder. The trembling has lessened, but his shaky grip is still stuck on his friend like a life-line. Not that Thatch seems to mind. 

"What for?" The fourth commander asks, continuing the comfort of rocking. Marco takes a deep breath. "That you have to see me like this, yoi. Me being...weak.." The words are difficult to get past his dry lips, but he managed anyways. Thatch grips him harder. 

"Marco, do you know just how much you do? How many panic attacks you've helped the crew with? Hell, sometimes you comfort _Pops _just by standing in the same room. You've seen is at our weakest, and yet your opinion hasn't changed. Remember my last panic attack?"

Marco actually does. "I remember...about Izo, and how you felt....felt unworthy, yoi." He feels the motion of Thatch nodding. "Yeah. That was one of my worst. Did your opinion of me change because of it?" 

"No," He says with a shaky breath. He can practically feel Thatch's smile. "Exactly. The same goes for me, Marco. My opinion- in fact, nobody's opinion- will change."

"You're out brother, Marco." With that, the tears flow once again. _Of course. _What was he thinking? This is his _family, _for Christ sake.

* * *

Eventually, he stopped shaking, his breathing returned to normal, and his heart isn't beating painfully. But he does feel a tiny bit tired. Movement around him is blurry as Thatch guides him to his feet and to the door. Thatch opens the door and lowers him into....

A hand? 

A moment later Marco realizes that it's Whitebeard's hand that's cupped like a bowl. Then he realizes, as Pops sits down, that they had moved to Whitebeard's room. The man laid down, the band holding Marco resting on his lap. 

"Rest, my son." And so he did. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco needs therapy. And Ace. But Ace isn't here, so Thatch therapy will have to do

If there was a guidebook for '_how__ to survive on the Moby Dick_', it would involve a list of what pissed Marco off. 

One of the things in that list is be messing with Ace. In any way. Once, and only once, had a fellow crewmember made Ace cry. That's right; _cry. _Even Whitebeard was not a happy camper on that occasion. 

Marco has recently taken to writing in a journal. True, it makes the man feel like a child, but he's barely holding it together as it is. Today he writes about Ace. 

About how he misses the younger boy's presence; how he misses his laugh and all the food they have to make for him due to his '_D_' appetite. About how he hopes the Marines haven't scared Ace- messing with his tattoo was already enough to make Marco want to lash out in anger. 

But he _can't _because he's the first mate, and as first mate he has to hold it together. He needs to be a leader. If he slips up once, the crew will be lost, or lose respect, or-

With a nauseas feeling piling up in his stomach, Marco realizes that he can't breathe. He can't fucking _breathe, _and his head is pounding from lack of air. Come to think of it, his chest is pounding, his heart thumping against it quite painfully. 

The man jumps as something hits the ground with a dull _thunk. _Since when did his ears start ringing? And since when was he on the ground? And why can't he breathe? Marco tries to take a deep breath but pain shoots across his body. His mind is jumbled as his body starts shaking uncontrollably, and tears spill from his puffy, sleep-deprived eyes. The room spins as he sweats, his head pounding harder than before. 

Marco's mouth is uncomfortably dry and his throat feels swollen when he tries to swallow. Holy _hell, _he really can't breathe. 

Marco, rationally, knows that he should get Thatch or Pops, but he can't seem to move. His fingers and toes have gone cold and numb on him. _Stupid fingers. Stupid toes, _he thinks to himself. He can't think of anything else but the now blinding chest pain. The older male curls into a ball. 

Abdominal pain makes itself known as his limbs start to spasm against his will, hurting his still-frozen toes and fingers. Marco starts to feel as if it's really cold- no, on second though, it's hot- but too hot. 

Marco's short breaths become shorter and more panicked as he remembers he can't _get _hot. The thought reminds him of Ace. Marco starts seeing a mix of white and black spots, still thinking of Ace. How he can't protect him. How he's weak and old, and how he weighs down the crew-

A door closing rings through the room. He lets out a pained moan. The door closing hurts his head; more than the pounding that's already causing him pain. A hand shakes him and Marco feels cold again. Then hot. Then cold. A shiver runs through him. "-co...arco...Marco!" 

With a painful jolt his body stops spasming for a few seconds. Gasping for breathe, he looks at the source of the voice. "Thatch?" He croaks. Great. Now a fellow _commander _is seeing him so..._weak...._so..._pathetic._

Marco's stomach twists painfully and his limbs are moving uncontrollably again- he, dimly aware, feels himself being moved from the ground. Another cold, cold shiver runs through him. Suddenly he's got again, sending him into another bout of panic.

His body is being rocked. He's propped up, chest to chest, leaning against Thatch, being rocked. Once this registers, he moved his trembling arms oh-so slowly until he's got his arms wrapped around his friend painfully tight, soothed by the rocking motions.

"It's okay Marco. You're alright. It'll all be okay, I promise." Marco's expression morphs into a scowl. He's weak, crying like this. He's the_ first mate_ damnit, and while everyone is focused on saving Ace, he's having a panic attack. He briefly wonders how Thatch thinks of him. The thought of Thatch, Ace, Pops, or anyone, really; thinking he's weak sends his heart thumping painfully again.

Fingers clutch Thatch's shirt as Marco buries his head into the other man's shoulder. He inhales the scent of grease and an overall kitchen-y smell, and his thoughts seem less jumbled.

"You aren't weak, Marco. Everyone has a breaking point, and you take way more than a normal person. Which, as your best friend, is hard to watch you do, you know? It's okay. I promise you're fine."

The words calm Marco. Thatch doesn't stop the rocking motions, instead pulling Marco even closer. Marco lets the tears escape into Thatch's shoulder. His heart is beating less hard, slowing to a steady pace; no longer painfully hitting against his chest. 

"'M sorry," he mumbled into Thatch's shoulder. The trembling has lessened, but his shaky grip is still stuck on his friend like a life-line. Not that Thatch seems to mind. 

"What for?" The fourth commander asks, continuing the comfort of rocking. Marco takes a deep breath. "That you had to see me like this, yoi. Me being...weak.." The words are difficult to get past his dry lips, but he managed anyways. Thatch grips him harder. 

"Marco, do you know just how much you do? How many panic attacks you've helped the crew with? Hell, sometimes you comfort _Pops _just by standing in the same room. You've seen is at our weakest, and yet your opinion hasn't changed. Remember my last panic attack?"

Marco actually does. "I remember...about Izo, and how you felt....felt unworthy, yoi." He feels the motion of Thatch nodding. "Yeah. That was one of my worst. Did your opinion of me change because of it?" 

"No," He says with a shaky breath. He can practically feel Thatch's smile. "Exactly. The same goes for me, Marco. My opinion- in fact, nobody's opinion- will change."

"You're out brother, Marco." With that, the tears flow once again. _Of course. _What was he thinking? This is his _family, _for Christ sake.

* * *

Eventually, he stopped shaking, his breathing returned to normal, and his heart isn't beating painfully. But he does feel a tiny bit tired. Movement around him is blurry as Thatch guides him to his feet and to the door. Thatch opens the door and lowers him into....

A hand? 

A moment later Marco realizes that it's Whitebeard's hand that's cupped like a bowl. Then he realizes, as Pops sits down, that they had moved to Whitebeard's room. The man laid down, the band holding Marco resting on his lap. 

"Rest, my son." And so he did. 


End file.
